


Pieces of a Broken Puzzle

by plumscent



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabble Collection, Fluff, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumscent/pseuds/plumscent
Summary: A collection of drabbles and short stories. Tags will be added accordingly, though I'll try not to go too crazy with them.1. ereri / au2. ereri / au3. yumihisu / canon4. ereri, Levi-centric / canon





	1. Reincarnation AU

**Author's Note:**

> Second time's a charm, hopefully. I posted a lot of these drabbles earlier this year on Tumblr, then went on a downward spiral of bad decisions and deleted everything. I've decided to post some of them again, because I genuinely like them, and I hope you do too.  
> Posting them as they were the first time; no editing.
> 
>  
> 
> (this one, like most of my stuff, doesn't actually have a title. oops)

Eren’s memories are ignited by touch.

He’s five when the new neighbours move in and his parent’s invite them to dinner; the couple has a boy his age, and naturally his mom is set on them becoming friends. Eren is not shy but awfully quiet for a child, they say, while Eren himself can only think of the flashes he sometimes get when his dad puts him to bed before storytime. 

The parents sit and drink happily while Eren and the new kid sit on the carpet, Eren’s toys all around them. His name is Armin and he doesn’t say anything either, but shoots glances at Eren every now and then and when Eren doesn’t stop him, starts playing with a puzzle set. Eren realizes one of the pieces is right by his left elbow and, in a gesture of good faith, hands it to Armin. Their fingers touch, and Eren pulls back with a start as he can suddenly see Armin much, much older, a real adult with haunted eyes a weird haircut. Armin reaches out and holds his hand, teary-eyed, and they still don't say anything, but just  _know_.

Eren is eleven when he finds the stray cat he’s been seeing in posters all over his neighbourhood. The cat is nothing special, black and white and a bit on the fat side, if you ask him, but he recognizes the shiny red collar around its neck. There’s no ransom money on the posters and he almost shrugs and walks away, but he can just feel the scolding he would get from Armin, so he dutifully brings the cat home and rings the number printed in bold, black ink.

The lady that comes to pick up the cat thanks him profusely, rambling about her daughter crying every night, and that’s when he notices the little girl behind her, looking at him warily. He hands her the cat that’s still in his arms, and when their hands touch he’s glad for the girl’s reflexes, quite impressive for her age, because his head is suddenly spinning and he most definitely would have dropped the poor cat on its tiny head.

Mikasa looks much better here; having a loving family did wonders for her. She’s still on the quiet side, but her eyes have a brightness he had never known before. 

Eren is fifteen when he’s told he has anger issues and sent to some kind of bullshit therapy. It makes sense to him; Mikasa is still alarmingly strong and Armin is still a genius, so of course he still would be the I-have-issues friend.

He’s arriving at football practice one day when their coach announces a new kid is joining their team, his name’s Levi,  _and by the way, Eren, you’re on the bench today, and Levi will be taking your place_.

Later on Eren will thank the gods for his short temper and inability to follow any of the steps his therapist advised him to control his anger. Football has always been his moment of escapism, of  _feeling free_ , and there’s no way some random kid on tiny legs is going to take that from him, no matter how nice his eyes are.

He mumbles something rude as soon as the coach turns around, but Levi hears him, and soon enough they’re hurling insults at each other, Eren with his hands already in fists while Levi crosses his arms, apparently unimpressed by Eren’s coarse vocabulary. Eren tries punching the Levi but the new kid is fast; so fast he not only dodges Eren’s blow but also gives him one of his own, and Eren steps back as if he just got hit by a bullet.

He touches his cheek automatically but doesn’t really feel the pain; he’s too busy wondering how come Levi’s eyes are still the exact same shade as they were before.

With Mikasa and Armin, he recalls touching them a lot, back then, so it’s no surprise to him that they both remembered too, after the first touch. With Levi, they never got the chance. 

As he starts crying now, in the middle of the stupid football field, he swears he can feel his heart bursting as Levi touches his hand to his mouth,  _remembers_ , and runs to Eren just like he wanted to, so long ago.

 


	2. Hands and Fists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A personal fave, even though it's short. I remember trying to write a sequel, but the words just wouldn't flow as easily.

Levi works with his hands.

He sketches eyes and mouths and ears with black ink and messy charcoal, always observing from a distance safe enough to not be noticed. He paints dark mountains and endless skies with oils and pastels, always in silence. He enjoys the quiet; like the world is still and nothing could ever be wrong again.  
He drinks tea; four, five cups a day as he makes his canvasses come to life. By the end of the day his hands always hurt, and his arms and fingers are covered in smudges. It’s the only time he allows himself to be messy. It’s his therapy, and he’s lucky enough to be able to also call it his job.

Eren works with his fists.

Over the years he’s learnt the importance of wrapping his hands properly before putting on his boxing gloves; of learning the correct ways of positioning his fingers in a punch and of keeping his skin hydrated. He spars almost everyday, usually choosing Jean as his partner because he knows the fucker won’t hold back. But once everyone else is gone and almost all lights are out he keeps training, screaming to himself and the world as he hits the punching bag again and again. It’s his therapy, and he trains with all his determination, because he wants, needs, to be the best.

But every night, after they have dinner and talk about each other’s days and Eren makes inappropriate jokes, Levi’s hands will turn into fists as he holds the sheets, breathless, and it’s Eren’s fingers, though calloused and rough, that caress Levi’s skin and paint something beautiful. Something that is only theirs.

 


	3. this child of ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My first yumihisu. Lots of angst. Spoilers up to Chapter 107.
> 
> (I'm really sorry)

later on, all she will remember is that she was writing yet another letter the first time it happened.

 

it seems like it's the only thing she’s allowed to do, these days; write down orders while locked up, supposedly for her own safety. they seem to forget that she used to be a warrior, just like them. admittedly, she had never been the strongest or the fastest, but she had lived through the same relentless schedule. had survived the same expeditions, and mourned the same losses.

 

she's uncomfortable, and a little unsure of what to do; the little one has been restless for the past couple of hours. people tell her she’s fine, just a little fatigued, but there’s something wrong about all this. right now, she can’t quite put her finger on it, though. Instead, she decides to go for a walk, but she gets up and takes no more than three steps when her child kicks at her belly for the first time. a surprised laugh escapes her, and she puts both hands on top of her stomach, smiling.

 

she wonders which names ymir is thinking of; historia knows she'll be happy with whatever ymir chooses. she racks her brain but for some reason can't remember where she is now. the sun is almost setting; is she still training? things have been so ominous; the air crackling with a nervous tension, almost tangibly explosive. every step and every word being meticulously thought out. sometimes she got so tired, she just wanted to run away, to hide in the forest forever. she would hardly be the first to finally give up, even if logically no one survived for long amongst the trees.

 

but then she thinks of ymir, fiercely protecting her; always putting her safety first, always making sure she got more than she rightfully deserved. ymir, late at night, kissing her collarbone all the way to her navel, and laughing at historia's inability to keep quiet when she dipped her head even lower. ymir, standing tall and proud after everything she had been through, never afraid of fighting for what she felt was right. and just like that, historia's faith is restored every time.

 

the baby quiets, and she lets herself rest, laying carefully on the couch. she closes her eyes but still can't sleep. her head has been a mess for a while now, too many voices and thoughts and questions at once. no matter how much she tries, her mind keeps going back to the walls surrounding her _—_ hanji's determined face _—_ eren's sorrowful gaze _—_ armin's cautious words _—_ the forest, still full of titans _—_ the forest, still full of _people—_ the blood and tears in the villages and ymir _ymir_ why isn't she home yet the baby missed her _where was she_ historia needed her **where** _—_

 

there's a knock on the door, and historia opens her eyes with a start.

the little one kicks again, and she opens her mouth to speak, the words on the tip of her tongue, _ymir, our child is—_

 

oh, that's right. ymir isn't here anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historia deserves literally nothing of what she's going through in this arc. I can see her slowly going insane, and it breaks my heart.


	4. Like Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he reminisces about his life, Levi doesn’t think in colours or scents or melodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somehow, I'd literally forgotten about writing this one. 
> 
> Canon & Levi-centric with touches of ereri, because I can never help myself.

 

When he reminisces about his life, Levi doesn’t think in colours or scents or melodies. Pragmatic that he is, Levi thinks of the weather.

 

Sunny days reminded him of his mother.

She was often asleep when she was home, whether from tiredness after being with what she would call her _friends_ , or to keep from hearing her own stomach grumble in pain, the small loaf of bread she had been able to afford given to her son without a second thought. But when she was awake and lucid and wanted nothing more than to try and enjoy the miserable life she'd been given, Kuchel would take little Levi's hand and they would run through the fields together, listening to the birds sing and laughing as he pointed to funny-shaped clouds in the almost-clear blue sky. Her white dress would flow with the breeze, and Levi would ask his mom to help him chase squirrels, and neither of them would care that the sun and the heat would surely burn their pale skin until they looked as red as the apples Levi sometimes stole from the neighbour’s tree.

He'd always known, even as a small child, the importance of small moments like those; in which he was just a child watching his mother smile and hum his favourite songs, with no space for strange men or hunger or the sound of the neighbours screaming at night. She would collect different flowers and make herself a little bouquet, telling Levi about each one of them. _You see these, Levi? They're rainflowers. You give them to someone when you want them to know you'll never forget them. And these red ones are carnations. They mean love._

 

(Levi had spotted carnations once, while training in the nearby fields. He'd tried to just disregard them; in this life they led, one could hardly waste their time with silly symbolisms. But once the squad had been dismissed and he was alone, he'd picked a handful and left them by Eren's bed. Eren hadn’t known what they meant, of course, but Hanji had, and after a brief talk during dinner that night, he had cornered Levi in one of the dim-light hallways and held him so tight, like he was afraid Levi might disappear at any second. It was painful, and Levi relished it, knowing Eren was still alive and strong and _just there_ , with him.)

 

There'd been a vase of dead flowers on the table, the day Kenny found him.

All the petals were dark and wrinkled, but Levi's gaze never faltered from them as his mother was wrapped in a stained bed sheet, and as his uncle went outside and started digging a grave, Levi realised that even dead, he could still tell which petals had belonged to each flower. He stayed by the grave for hours under the hot sun, and when he’d gotten back to his house he'd been surprised to see that Kenny was still there, waiting for him. This was how, with nothing but his oversized clothes, Levi left his first home, the bouquet of rainflowers left on top of the small, fresh earth mound beside it.

 

 

Rainy days were reserved for Farlan and Isabel.

You'd think the Underground would be quiet; that the earth and the stench from the stale air they breathed would keep them from knowing anything about life above those dark walls. But when the rain was really heavy, it felt like the gods were hammering the ceiling, trying to punish them yet again for being poor or weak or just plain human. Isabel would curl in a corner and Farlan with hold her close, only trembling slightly when the thunderstorms got too loud. _Is that the titans?_ she had asked, once. Of course; they had never been above ground, and even Levi, easily annoyed and always tired from their runs for food, couldn't help but offer words of comfort. _It's just the rain. Water falling from the sky, to wash away some of the idiots in this world. It's nothing to worry about._

After they'd become part of Erwin's squad, Isabel would always dance in the rain, running away from Farlan as he tried to put a towel over her head and bring her home before she got sick. Levi would always roll his eyes, but in truth he didn't find it hard to understand the actions of the girl he loved as a dear sister; there was something hypnotizing about the rain, and he'd spent restless nights watching it fall from the bedroom window for hours, the sound no longer ominous but comforting. Levi had wondered, then, if that was what peace sounded like.

This was just one of the many times he would find himself being completely mistaken.

It has been raining the day they died, too; water beating down their faces with such force it was nearly impossible to see anything in front of them. Levi had been skilled enough ( _or lucky or cursed_ , he was never sure) to survive, but his family, once again, hadn't.

He’d shed no tears, and he only knew that because his cheeks remained icy cold as he killed the beasts in front of him without a second thought. Without any regards for his own life. _Survivor's guilt_ , Hanji whispered to Erwin one night; but they didn't understand. They would never understand. Levi had _said_ the rain was nothing to worry about. He should have never said those words; should have never given them that misleading sense of security.

The sound of every raindrop hitting the window glass echoed painfully in his head, and he realises he should've known peace would never last.

 

(Eren had told him once that he liked the rain. _Like it's washing away all of our troubles, even if it's just for a second_. Levi had wanted to say that he himself had been that foolish once; but as Eren's eyes shone at him, he found he had no courage to dull that spark.)

 

 

But the wind had yet to taint his life.

For a long time after that failed expedition, Levi didn't train with the purpose of surviving. He didn't care about what would happen, didn't worry about being sore or tired or even alive.

He trained because he felt free.

Using his gear was almost like flying. He would jump from one building to another; make his way to the top of the highest tree, walk and cross the walls with the same easiness everyone else would cross streets every day, their feet still firm on the ground. He would start early in the morning and only stop after the sun had set, and if he improved as a soldier because of that, well, then that was just another consequence of something he never really intended to, but happened to him anyway.

He would often spend his free time alone, still in his uniform but away from everything and everyone; nothing but the songs of the wind chiming in his ears and the bitter caress of the air on his face. This was easy. _Soothing_. The wind gusting past him was what kept him grounded amongst the pain, the responsibility, the monsters lurking just a few miles away. So even if the sun still burned his skin, the wind would help alleviate the pain. If the rain soaked him to the bone, the wind would eventually dry his sorrow. The wind is what kept him human.

 

(Most times, the wind would carry a soft smell of soap and fresh tea leaves, and he knew that if he just turn around and opened his eyes, he would gaze into the bright green of Eren’s, watching over Levi as if there’s was nothing else in the world he’d rather do.)

 

 


End file.
